Witchcraft and Wizardry: Special Victims Unit
by LuckyMoonProngs
Summary: Law and Order: SVU X-over. Years after the defeat of Voldemort, Harry has made a new life, as a detective in an elite squad of the NYC police department. Unfortunately, his old life sends an old acquaintance into his new one. Non-slash. Rape, Murder
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer – We own nothing but the original plot and anything else you may not recognize. Both Harry Potter and Law and Order: SVU belong to their respective owners. Events may not fit in order of a particular season of SVU, so deem it alternate universe.

Warning – May contain subject matter not suitable for certain readers.

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**Witchcraft and Wizardry: Special Victims Unit**

_**By 'Ponine and Zenn **_

_"In the criminal justice system, sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories."

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**_Chapter One

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_**

**Red Wing Apartments**

**34th street**

**3/12/2005 2:58 AM**

The music blasting from the speakers pounded through the apartment complex, drowning out the splashing of the indoor pool. A young woman walked through the hallways, dodging party goers and waving at various acquaintances. Suddenly, several cheering people ran by, knocking her against the wall, but she merely burst out laughing as she realized all of them were unclothed.

"Skinny dipping! Come on, Anabelle, join us!" a young male called as he ran past.

She shook her head with a smile and watched as they ran towards the pool, whistling loudly. Anabelle ducked into an open apartment, greeting a couple friends, and making her way to the wet bar.

"Scotch on the rocks," she ordered, keeping a watchful eye on the man fixing her drink.

The bartender smiled flirtatiously as he handed her the glass of liquor. She batted her eyelashes playfully, then turned away, sipping slowly from the drink. The ice clattered in the liquid, and the alcohol burned Anabelle's throat on the way down.

As she scanned the room, she noticed a handsome man flipping through a rack of discs, and tried to catch his eye. When he didn't look up, Anabelle sashayed over to him.

"Hi there," she purred softly. "I'm Anabelle, and I noticed you looking at the Green Day CD. One of my favorites."

As he turned toward her, a predatory grin flashed briefly across his face.

"Hello, Anabelle. You can call me Prince Charming," he answered cheekily.

"Is that so? Well, then, where is your noble steed?" questioned Anabelle, her smile sweet.

"He's in the bedroom. Want a ride?" he asked, the insinuation quite clear.

Anabelle glanced around, then looked back coyly. "Lead the way, your highness."

With a grin, he took her arm and lead her to the back bedroom of the apartment house, which incidentally was the only one not in use at the moment. Once inside, Anabelle took the lead, sliding a hand behind the man's neck and pulling his lips to hers.

Walking haphazardly to the bed, Anabelle sunk into it as the mattress hit her knees. Pulling her soon to be lover with her, they made their way to the middle of bed, clothes coming off rapidly.

As she pulled his shirt off, a large tattoo covering most of his right arm caught the light.

"Oh, nice. Where'd you get that?" Anabelle asked, as he trailed his tongue down her jaw.

Looking up, he smiled again. "Little place south of the border. Why, do you like marks on your body?"

Blinking up at him, she said, "Well, like that, I guess. Anyway, where were we?"

His lips descended back to her neck, and in her pleasure she didn't notice him pull a small wire from his opened jeans' pocket. Quickly he pushed up from her, and before she could question him, he unraveled the garrote, and wrapped it easily across her neck.

Anabelle's eyes widened as the thin wire cut into her skin and she lashed out desperately. Her fingernails scratched his bare chest, leaving trails of red lines that her attacker ignored.

As she fought desperately, the man smirked, pushing her knees apart and taking advantage of the position. As he sped up, her actions became sluggish, and Anabelle's arms dropped beside her. By the time he'd pulled off, she'd fallen limp, and as he backed away, she didn't move.

With a contented smile, the man pulled his weapon from the skin of her neck, where it had cut in. Taking a knife from his other pocket, he traced the blade over her forearm. Finishing his task, he quickly composed himself and slipped unerringly out of the apartment and out of sight.

* * *

**Eyes Open Library**

**3/12/2005 9:33 AM**

Sitting at a table in a small library, a young man was pouring over a book entitled Magic for Dummies. With a disgusted sigh, he slapped the book closed.

"What a load of sod," he muttered, a faint British accent coloring his words.

Suddenly a loud tinny version of the song _The Entertainer_ broke the silence. Quickly the young man pulled out his cell phone, wincing slightly at the glares of the various library patrons. Walking to the back hallway, he flipped open his cell.

"_What_!" he snapped, then closed his eyes. "Sorry, James Black here, what is it?"

"It's Benson. A call came in about a murder on 34th street," the voice on the other end informed him. "The Captain wants you to meet Stabler and me down there."

"Okay, Detective Benson," he answered, taking down the address as she gave it to him.

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**Red Wing Apartments**

**34th Street**

**3/12/2005 10:12 AM**

James made his way into the apartment complex, flashing his badge to gain him entrance. Nodding at the uniformed officers blocking the door of the first floor apartment, he ducked under the crime scene tape and made his way inside.

"Black, over here," Olivia Benson called, spotting him near the doorway.

Walking over to the brunette detective, he nodded his greeting. "What is it?"

A taller man stepped up to them, and James inclined his head. "Woman, mid-20's, possibly a college student. Found dead in a back bedroom, strangled, evidence of rape," Elliot Stabler explained. "The captain wanted you to work this case with us, give you a taste, seeing as you're new to the department."

James rolled his eyes. "I get it, I get it. Don't forget I've worked the beat a few years, I'm not a complete rookie."

"Maybe," Stabler agreed, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "But this is a bit different, Black."

"That's the man that found her, over near the bar," Benson said, gesturing in that direction. "Apparently he was playing bartender at the little party held here last night, and came in to clean up this morning. This is his place."

"He a suspect?" James asked.

"At this point, everyone's a suspect, Black," Stabler responded, indicating for them to walk over to the man.

The three detectives quickly stepped over to the bar, and Stabler inclined his hand. "Detective Elliot Stabler, my partner Detective Olivia Benson, and this is Detective James Black," he introduced the group.

"John Apollo," the man responded, standing and shaking their hands. "I already told the other cops everything I knew."

"We know that, sir," Benson said, gesturing for Apollo to sit again and taking the chair across from him. "Now we need you to tell us."

Apollo nodded. "All right. Last night we had a party. The whole complex, you know, like those old block parties from the 60's? Well, I was serving drinks in here till about five am, then, well, I joined a friend of mine in the pool. A few hours later, after the place had cleared out mostly, I returned to start cleaning up a bit. I knocked on the bedroom doors to make any stragglers take off, but no one answered at the back one."

Taking a deep breath, the man glanced at the detectives, then towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

"Well," Apollo continued, "I went in and that's when I saw the girl. I thought she was just asleep, but then I saw blood on her neck. She was cold when I checked for a pulse, and I called you guys."

James nodded, jotting his explanation in a notepad. "All right, now, did you know the woman?"

Apollo shook his head. "She had gotten a drink from me, late, I'm not sure when. We flirted a bit, but I didn't even get her name. I had to take care of other orders, and after I looked up, she'd apparently left the room, as I didn't see her again."

"Did you see anyone she might have left with, or noticed her talking with anyone?" Stabler asked.

"No, but I probably wouldn't have noticed if I had," the witness answered. "Everyone hooks up at these parties. Not that we're promoting anything, or doing anything illegal." Apollo looked at the detectives anxiously.

Benson smiled lightly. "That's fine. Now, Mr. Apollo, are there witnesses that can confirm your whereabouts between 2 AM and 4 AM?"

"Why?" Apollo asked. "You don't think I had anything to do with it? I mean, that's crazy!"

"It's merely procedure, sir," James quickly assured him. "It would be helpful if you would answer."

"Well, lots of people saw me at the bar," said Apollo. "At about, oh, I don't know, a quarter to 4, I was with a friend in the pool- Joseph Miller."

James nodded, and wrote down the name. Running a hand distractedly through his hair, he glanced up at the witness. Noticing the man looking curiously at his forehead, James quickly let his hair fall forward, the raven locks covering his distinctive scar. It was habit, though he knew that Muggles had no idea the significance.

"Thank you, Mr. Apollo," Benson said. "We'll ask you to follow these officers instructions, now, if you would."

With that, the three detectives moved away from the bar, and walked across the room.

"Let's go see the crime scene," Stabler instructed, and they stepped down the dim hallway.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two

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**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

**Somewhere Unplottable in Scotland**

**3/12/2005 3:15 PM**

The sunlight streamed through the window into the headmaster's office, flashing across several spinning and whirling objects upon tables. The portraits mounted on the walls held quiet conversations with their neighbours, and a large phoenix sat preening upon his perch.

Behind the desk, leaning back in his purple overstuffed chair, the headmaster sat reading a rather odd Muggle book.

Putting down his copy of Magic for Dummies, Albus Dumbledore chuckled. "Oh, those precious Muggles," he exclaimed fondly.

Suddenly a click sounded on the glass window to the side of him. Turning, Albus saw a small tawny owl waiting somewhat impatiently to be let in. He quickly allowed it entry, stroking its feathers as it landed next to his hand on the desk. Removing its letter, he blinked as the bird flew swiftly away through the still opened window, apparently in no need of a reply.

Unrolling the parchment, Albus' face turned serious as he took at the content. Looking over the edge of the letter for a moment, the headmaster sat briefly in thought. Finally, he brought himself back to the present and standing, made his way to the fireplace.

With a toss of Floo Powder and a spoken name, Albus requested for one of his professor's presence. As he waited, the white-haired wizard walked back to his seat and sat heavily, summoning a pot of tea and a couple of cups.

After another minute, the fireplace flared and a dark form stepped out easily. With a scowl, Severus Snape brushed the soot off of his black robes, damning the mode of transportation under his breath. Finished with straightening his clothes, the Potion's master laid his gaze on the headmaster.

"Albus. Why did you call me up here?" Severus questioned, his voice holding its usual bite. "I was in the middle of a rather dangerous potion, that at any moment now may explode and down the entire castle."

"Well, at least in that case, we'll hear it, won't we?" Albus said, taking a lemon drop from his candy dish and offering one to the younger wizard.

With a venomous glare, Snape sat stiffly upon one of the chairs before the other's desk. Albus chuckled and bit into his own candy, pouring tea for both of them without asking if the Potion's master wanted any.

"Now, now, Severus," the headmaster started. "I am in need of your assistance."

"You are in need of plenty of help, Headmaster," Severus replied simply. "What can I do for you?"

Shaking his head in amusement, Dumbledore said, "I have just received a rather disturbing missive." His expression grew darker. "According to the Ministry of Magic's records archive, one of Hogwarts' former students was murdered last night."

"And this is of interest to me?" asked Snape, raising an eyebrow.

"Severus." Albus sighed. "It is of interest because I wish you to go investigate it."

Severus blinked. "You must be kidding, Albus. I am no Auror, nor a Muggle Inspector."

"I am quite aware of what you are, my boy," the headmaster replied, ignoring Snape's increased glare. "I need someone I trust to make sure this is an isolated incident and not someone after former Order members."

"Order members?" Severus questioned.

"Yes. Ms Pierce was a witch who moved to America after her schooling, and she joined the Order as a foreign ally," Albus explained. "Now, as your assistant has been teaching your classes quite well, I'm sure you can spare a short time to go see to this?"

Severus knew an order when he heard it. Nodding his head sharply, he asked, "Fine, is that all?"

"Yes," answered Albus. "Go set yourself up to go, and return here. I can explain more when you come."

**Red Wing Apartments**

**34th Street**

**3/12/2005 10:30 AM**

The three detectives made their way down the darkened hall, slipping into the last bedroom. Walking carefully nearer to the bed, James looked over the body sprawled across it. Nodding to the various scene investigators, he glanced around, noticing that nothing seemed out of place beyond the corpse.

Stabler walked up beside James, his own seasoned eyes taking in the scene. As the two men observed the bed, Benson moved around to the other side.

"Elliot, Black," Benson said, glancing up at them. "Come look at this."

James followed the older detective around the bed, looking where Benson was pointing. He noticed a red mark upon the arm of the victim, and leaned closer to see it better. Once he was able to see clearly, he blinked in surprise.

"What in the world?" James muttered, staring at the carved initials- PC.

"No one is sure, detective," a voice spoke behind the three colleagues. James turned to see the lead CSI. "We wanted to let you see it before we processed the body."

Elliot nodded, and moved off to speak with the man. Glancing briefly at Benson, James moved closer to the bed. The female lay upright, her clothes partway on, with a thin line across her throat.

"What do we think killed her?" he asked, looking back at Benson.

"We aren't quite sure, though it seems like some type of wire made the wound on her neck," Olivia answered. "We'll have to wait for the autopsy."

**Morgue**

**3/12/2005 3:22 PM**

"A garrote," Dr. Melinda Warner stated, holding up an x-ray to the lighted board. "See here how the wire cut into the anterior triangle. Based on the minimal damage shown on the skin, and the bruising near the spine, I would say that was the weapon used. Cause of death is asphyxia."

"Anything else you can tell us?" Elliot asked, glancing down at the opened body on the slab.

Dr. Warner shook her head. "Not at the moment. Toxicology has her blood work, but I doubt they'll find anything other than alcohol. She was otherwise healthy. The cut on her arm is the only wound present besides the fatal one, and seems to have been made post-mortem."

"Did the rape kit find anything?" inquired James, as he stood next to Benson. "Semen or any DNA?"

"I sent the samples I found to be processed, but whether it was rape, I couldn't tell you," Dr. Warner informed them. "There isn't any telltale bruising in the genital area, and I can't say if the man was the one to have strangled her."

"Was it exotica asphyxiation?" Benson questioned.

"I wouldn't say that," the medical examiner stated. "Most cases of that involve items such as ropes or scarves, things that don't cut into the tissue of the neck."

Stabler nodded his thanks, then gestured for the others to follow him out of the morgue. Walking through the white doors, they made their way to the elevator. As they entered the lift, James turned to the partners.

"When do you think the results will come back on the semen?" he asked.

"It could take a while," Elliot answered with a slight scowl. "Those damn technicians work them first come, first serve, and they are always piled sky high with requests." He turned to Benson. "Liv, did you take the vic's address book to evidence with her purse?"

"Yes," replied Olivia. "I'll make a call and get copies of the entries."

**Quagmire's Vocal Academy**

**1233 Mars Avenue**

**3/12/2005** **5:18 PM**

James lead the way up a stone path towards a small building on the outskirts of the city. Reaching the door, he knocked lightly, almost afraid that the door would fall in if he hit too hard.

"Who's is it?" called out a gruff voice from within.

"NYPD," James responded through the wood.

The door slammed open abruptly, startling the detectives. Benson and Stabler placed their hands within easy reach of their handguns, but James merely smiled at the old man standing in the doorway.

"Are you Felic Quagmire?" James questioned amicably.

"Who's is asking?" the man asked sharply.

The detectives hold up their badges. James nodded at the others. "These are Detectives Benson and Stabler. I'm Detective Black. Can we come in?"

"Sure, yea's can. Yep, I's is Felic," Quagmire stated, ushering them into a dim entranceway. "Rights this way. It's easiers to see in here."

James agreed barely when he walked into the front room. Dark wallpaper was peeling from the walls, and the furniture was moth-eaten. The light was indeed bright through the windows, but the dark interior seemed to swallow it.

"Sir, we're here investigating a possible homicide. We'd like to ask you a few questions," Olivia said, following James into the room.

"Sures. Fire away," responded Quagmire, taking a seat in an ancient easy-chair.

"Did you tutor a Ms. Anabelle Pierce? Your name was written in her address book," Stabler began.

Quagmire nodded. "Sures. I haves her here every Tuesday. You aren't saying she's the ones whos been hurt?"

"I'm afraid she was found dead this morning," James told him. "We are now speaking to all of her acquaintances."

"Oh, that's so bad," the old man muttered. "What's happened?"

"We are still in the process of determining that," answered James.

Quagmire nodded. "Wells, if yous wanting to speak to those whos known her, yous needing to speak with little Christine."

"Do you have a last name for this Christine?" Stabler asked.

"I'll do's you one better." Quagmire forced himself to his feet and walked to the door, sticking his head out slightly. "Daae, in's here, these peoples need to speak with ya's."

James glanced at the other two, but they kept quiet as Quagmire returned. As the older man looked them over, James saw Quagmire's eyes rivet to his forehead and widen.

"Heys, is you-" Quagmire was fortunately cut off when the door to the room banged open. Glancing at the other two detectives who were looking between him and James curiously, Quagmire smiled. "Nevers mind, my mistake. You's look familiar, Detective."

James nodded with a small smile on his otherwise blank face, though he was slightly startled. _Leave it to me to have to question a bloody wizard,_ he thought, breathing out when Benson and Stabler stopped looking at him and turned to the girl who'd just entered the sitting room.

"Yes, Felic?" the young woman questioned, smiling briefly at the strangers before her.

"Hello, we are Detectives Benson, Stabler, and Black. We were told you had known Anabelle Pierce," said Olivia.

The dark-haired woman nodded hesitatingly. "Yeah, she's a very good friend of mine. I'm Christine Daae, by the way. And what do you mean, 'had known'?"

"I am afraid that Ms. Pierce was found dead this morning," Elliot stated calmly. "Since you knew her, we have some questions for you, Ms. Daae."

Christine nodded again, her expression downcast. "Of course."

"I'lls just leaves yous alone," Quagmire said. "If'en you needs me, I'll be's across the hall."

Benson nodded, and turned back to Christine. "Ms. Daae, why don't we sit down." Joining her on the couch when the woman sat, Olivia then said, "I know this is difficult, but we just have a few things to ask you. How long have you known Ms. Pierce?"

"About fifteen years, give or take," she answered. "We met in kindergarten. We always do everything together."

Olivia smiled. "All right. Now, when was the last time you spoke to your friend?"

"Just last night, she was on her way to a party in some apartment." Christine shook her head. "She was just fine, and happy. Are you sure she's d-dead?"

"Yes, I'm sorry," confirmed Benson. "Now, did she go to the party with anyone?"

"No," stated Christine, as she wiped at her eyes. James handed her a handkerchief. "Thanks. No, Ana never went with anyone, she always likes to find guys at them. She'd, you know, hook up with them."

"What do you mean, 'hook up'?" Benson inquired.

"Well, uh, she goes to bed with them. That's why I never go to those parties. That's all anyone does there."

"I see. Now, did she ever have a problem with anyone at these parties?" When Christine shook her head, Olivia nodded. "All right. Now, did she have any enemies, anyone who might wish her harm?"

"Oh no, not at all," Christine stated confidently. "She's the nicest person I know. Knew." She started sobbing.

Suddenly, Stabler's cell phone went off in his pocket. "Excuse me."

"Ms. Daae, we may have more questions to ask at a later time," James said, holding the pen still that he'd been taking down notes with. "Would you please give us your address and phone number?"

As she nodded, Elliot returned, signaling to the other detectives. Keeping his voice low, he said, "Cragen needs us back. There was another murder. Same MO."

James nodded and quickly got Christine Daae's information, wondering to himself if she was a witch when she looked oddly at the ballpoint pen he had her use. Shaking his head, knowing that he couldn't very well question either her or Quagmire about it with the other detectives there, James took his leave with the others.

Walking back down the stone pathway outside, James felt a tingle of distinctive wards as they neared the street. He hadn't thought to sense for them before, but still wondered why he hadn't noticed when they had first arrived. Forcing his thoughts back to the case, he was startled when he heard a soft pop sound across the road.

Looking up, green eyes locked with the black gaze of Hogwarts' Potion's master.

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A/N: Christine Daae's name was chosen from one of our favourite musicals- The Phantom of the Opera. Ponine was rather insistent about using it. ;) We own nothing of PotO.

Now, we'll have more for you soon. Thanks for reading, and please let us know what you think.

Ponine and Zenn


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